Drengr
by lyannastarkers
Summary: When the Ámáttugr rise from the ocean, the only thing standing between them and world domination are the brave pilots from the Drengr Initiative. (Pacific Rim AU)
1. Prologue

In the year 2035, scientists were warning the public about greenhouse gases and global warning. The government was on high alert for terrorist threats. There was mass panic about the resurgence of yellow fever. So the Ámáttugr were the last thing we needed.

Ámáttugr. An old Norse word for fearsomely powerful. And fearsomely powerful they were. When the world had its eyes turned to the sky for life from other worlds, the Ámáttugr came from below, from the depths of the ocean. Unfathomably big, with unearthly strength, the Ámáttugr would rise unpredictably and destroy a few oceanside cities, eventually falling to unceasing bombing and aerial gunfire.

After Tokyo had been flattened four times, the UN called a conference to discuss the problem. It was a typically American idea that promised to save the human race- the creation of equally strong, equally big robots to fight and take down the Ámáttugr as they appeared.

The Drengr Initiative is where I come in. The government started looking for physically and mentally strong people to pilot the Drengrs. And obviously, that… wasn't me. I took on a job with the Drengr Academy as a technician, and was given a front row seat to the drama, intrigue, and occasional horror the Academy drew.

If the Ámáttugr were demons from hell, we were angels. Angels in giant metal Rock'em Sock'em Robots, but angels nonetheless. When others were shielded in Ámáttugr shelters, we were hunting the Ámáttugr down. When others believed the Ámáttugr undefeatable, we were taking them down. When others were ignorant, we were knowledgeable. When others feared, we fought.

We are Drengr. We are unstoppable.

(Hi guys! This is my first story for HTTYD, and my first multichapter fic in a looooong time. Obviously, this is a Pacific Rim AU. This chapter is very tell-not-show, but I was trying to mirror the first part of the movie, where Raleigh is telling us about his world. This chapter is written in first person, but the rest of the story will be in third person. Expect multiple pairings and unpredictable updates. Thanks for reading!)


	2. Chapter 1

The lunchroom at the Drengr Initiative Training Base had always been too loud, and had always reminded Hiccup too much of high school. Gripping his plasticky lunch tray with some unidentifiable meat on it, he navigated his way past groups of suits huddled around portascreens and cliques of engineers going over blueprints to get to his unofficially assigned seat at the end of one of the tables. Settling onto the wooden bench, Hiccup gingerly poked at his dinner with his fork, and risked a small bite. He hid a grimace. The Drengr Base was a state-of-the-art facility, and the training, equipment, and lodgings left nothing to be desired. The food, however, did.

"Tuff!"

"Ruff!"

Two blonde masses of muscle and sinew sprinted across the cafeteria, bounding over tables and pushing past people, to join in the middle.

"I totally beat up Snot during one-on-one when-"

"I blew up four Ámáttugr during simulation-"

"Marshal Stoick _smiled_ at me after I-"

"It was so _rad_!" They finished together. The Thorston twins had always had a peculiar bond. Half the time they were at each other's throat, and the other half, they were inseparable. Today, unfortunately, it seemed to be the latter.

The unmissable arrival of the Thorstons heralded the end of Drengr simulation, and the pilots were slowly filtering into the lunchroom, usually in pairs. The Drengrs couldn't be piloted by one person- the stress was too much for any individual to handle. Instead, the robots were piloted by two people, mentally and emotionally compatible pairs, who shared memories and thoughts while piloting through The Drift. It was said to be either quite enriching or quite traumatic. Hiccup didn't have any thoughts on it personally. He had only experienced it once, and he was pretty sure it didn't work like it was supposed to.

"Snottie!" Another obnoxious cry from Tuffnut Thorston caused everyone to look up, roll their eyes, and look down again. Snotlout Jorgenson was not so easily brushed off.

"Snotlout is a strong Viking name! I wear it with pride," the stout young adult slammed his body onto the bench next to Ruffnut. "And good evening, my sun and stars," he gave Ruffnut a calculated smolder.

"Better not let Hofferson catch you saying that," Ruffnut cackled.

"Yeah, 'cause then your chances with her will be even lower than they already are!" Tuffnut chimed in, earning a fist bump from his twin.

"My calculations show that Snotlout's odds at entering a romantic relationship with Astrid are at about 2%," another Drengr pilot, Fishlegs, added, docilely placing his tray onto the table and sitting down.

"Shit, 2%? That's like, higher than zero!" Snotlout cheered.

"We can't have anything below 2%. There could be an outlier incident. For example, Astrid could hit her head very hard and forget who you are. Or, it could be in the dark, and she wouldn't recognize your voice," Fishlegs rationalized.

Although Hiccup was only 10 feet away from them, it felt like they were on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon. Their table of commotion and camaraderie was worlds away from Hiccup's lonely little corner of the cafeteria.

The doors flew open, and it seemed as if everything got quiet. Astrid Hofferson stormed into the room, sunlight hair bound in a tight braid. Her footsteps, although staccato, were controlled, like everything else about her. She cut through the room like a knife through warm butter as she picked up a tray and joined her friends.

"Astrid, darling, love of my life, you look like Apollo herself tonight," Snotlout intoned dramatically.

"Apollo was male," Astrid speared a limp carrot with her fork. Astrid deserved more than limp carrots, Hiccup thought. Astrid deserved fresh salads made from the crispest lettuce and reddest tomatoes and tossed in the blood of her enemies.

"What stick's up your ass? Stoick's not going to let you pilot a Drengr solo?" Ruffnut threw an arm around her best friend.

"He said it was too dangerous," Astrid hissed, loud enough for Hiccup to still eavesdrop. "Something about abnormal blood pressure and cranial stress- Whatever. Weak people stuff. Stormfly's going to get rusty if she doesn't have a pilot."

"Not like any of us saw this one coming," Tufffnut quipped, only to receive a punch from his sister.

Ruffnut rubbed Astrid's back. "Thought about taking a new partner?"

Astrid jerked away. "I won't. Not so soon after- No." To the naked eye, her slip of total control was imperceptible. But for one so trained in the art of Astrid as Hiccup, it was like watching a window shattered by a baseball.

For a few seconds, everybody at the table was silent, communication happening through meaningful glances given over Astrid's bent head. Suddenly, she stood up, scanning the room as if looking for something. Her electric blue gaze fell on him. "Haddock!"

Hiccup's blood ran cold. Could she have noticed Hiccup eavesdropping on their conversation? That would be embarrassing. Was she going to yell at him for being a useless member of the initiative? That would be even more embarrassing. Was she going to ask him to be her Drengr co-pilot? That would be… fucking awesome.

She marched over to his desolate table, placing her hands on the top but not bothering to sit down. "You're the guy that fixed up my Drengr, yeah?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure you can tell from the oil on my… everything. She's certainly tempestuous," Hiccup grinned.

Astrid stayed stone-faced. "Well, she has two right-handed consoles."

"I guess I assumed your partner is gonna be right-handed. My bad," Hiccup quickly corrected. "I'll change it if they're not." Hiccup thought back to Stormfly in the position he'd gotten her in, almost scrap metal. He distinctly remembered one right console and one left.

"My mother was the righty. I'm left handed." It was like Astrid could read his mind, like she was also seeing the wreckage from months ago. Her hand fluttered to a spot on her upper ribcage.

"Hey, listen, I'm sor-"

"Save it. Just fix my Drengr so I can do something useful again." As quickly as she'd come, she went, back to her friends, and Hiccup was reminded yet again that although he could fantasize all he wanted, he would never be like that. He would never be equal in the eyes of the Drengr pilots. Like she had just said, here, nobody was useful unless they were wearing a suit of techno-customized armor (probably made by him) and piloting a hunk of techno-customized metal (also probably made by him). Just call him Hiccup the Useless.

(So I was thinking about this story, and I've decided to take the plot in a different direction. The changes made at the end of this chapter reflect that. Expect some more regular updates. Concrit and plot ideas are much appreciated.)


	3. Chapter 3

The workshop constantly smelled like copper, smoke, and sweat, a cocktail normally disgusting but strangely normal here. Hiccup flourished in the moist hot air, like an Amazonian orchid. Focusing on the wires and cables within the small exposed infrastructure of Astrid's Drengr, he made a tiny cut.

"M'lad!" Gobber shouted, throwing a meaty arm over Hiccup's shoulder, nearly causing the boy to snip every wire within Stormfly. The head of Drengr Innovation, Repair, and Technology (or DIRT as the engineers called it) was the only man at the Base who didn't mind interacting with Hiccup in public. "She's looking beautiful."

Hiccup took off his helmet to join Gobber in gazing up at the metallic Venus towering above them. "She really is the Helen of Drengrs. But she's not done."

"Seems you've been sweatin' over that old wreck for months now. Don't know why she isn't."

"I keep thinking I'm done, but," Hiccup shrugged. "According to Junior Ranger Hofferson, there's always more work to do."

Gobber scoffed. "Don't listen to Astrid. I was there when she threw a fit at Stoick a few days back. She's upset about her mum, which is proper and all, but don't let her take it out on you." Gobber's thick accent always came out stronger when he was upset.

"Whatever. I'll just fix it, because that's what I do. Fix things. Hiccup the Fixer," he rambled, pulling his helmet back on and grabbing the soldering materials.

"And clean that grease out of your hair! Disgusting!" Gobber commanded.

"But you have grease in your everything," Hiccup shot back.

"When you're at my rank, you can roll around in it like a pig. But an engineer? Keep your damn hair clean!"

Hiccup smiled a little, despite Gobber's harsh words. Some days, his conversations with Gobber were the only social interaction he got. He lost himself in the whirring and humming of the engine. As he was every time he worked on Stormfly, he was astounded by how deeply the damage extended through the machine. Being strictly on the stable side of things, he forgot how vicious battles against Ámáttugr could be.

Hiccup was there when they recovered Stormfly from the wreckage. Both arms torn off, sparking wires poking through. And one side of the Drengr crushed nearly flat. The right side.

Sending Astrid out on the mission had been a desperate measure. Astrid's parents were legendary Rangers, but after her father died, Astrid had been trained to take his place as her mother's partner. When the attack came, the two had only piloted together in simulations. But when Bing, Bang, and Boom had all been downed by the massive Ámáttugr, there was no choice but to send Stormfly out to finish the job.

Hiccup never heard the whole story. But what he knew was that this Ámáttugr was the most fearsome Ámáttugr in history. And although Stormfly was a ferocious machine, and both Astrid and her mother were talented pilots, the bond between the two was weak.

Astrid had swum back to the Base, shaking with grief, cold, and fear, with a Ámáttugr scale lodged inches under her heart. Her mother's body was never found.

Ámáttugr followers called it the Bewilderbeast. Nobody knows what happened to it. Astrid never said. Some believe it was killed when Stormfly went down. Some believe it vanished, that it was a sign from Hell. And yet others believe the Bewilderbeast swam away, and that it was merely biding its time.

Hiccup didn't really know what he believed. But he did know he didn't like to think about it still being out there.

A shrieking bell pierced the clangs of metal on metal.

"We did good today! Everyone go home!" Gobber yelled, slinging his apron onto his assigned hook. The other engineers followed suit, quickly throwing their equipment into their workbenches and jogging out to get dinner.

Hiccup took his time folding his apron, polishing his wrenches, and checking for safety hazards.

"I can't go till you go. C'mon," Gobber banged a hammer against his table.

"Just go to dinner. I'll lock up. No worries," Hiccup encouraged.

"Not a chance, boy. You'll sleep here."

"I wish I could."

"No mopin'! No barracks, no dorms. You boys have it nice, with your private rooms," Gobber mocked. "This isn't even close to the Army. I miss the barracks. Builds character!"

Hiccup finally ran out of ways to procrastinate, and hefted his backpack up. "Be quiet."

The two bickered all the way to the mess hall, where Hiccup told Gobber "I'm not hungry. See you tomorrow." Although Gobber was vaguely worried about Hiccup not eating, he couldn't resist his own stomach, and the two parted.

Hiccup nearly sprinted through the abandoned accommodations block until he reached the heavy metal door with a 67 on it. "Finally," he muttered, leaning his body against the door to push it open. He would never understand why these doors weighed more than he did. Probably to build character.

He was greeted by a petulant _meow. _"Don't be like that," he muttered, digging through a drawer to pull out some canned tuna. "No, really, don't be like that. Someone will hear."

The black cat devoured the tuna while Hiccup threw his backpack on the bed, keeping a nervous eye on the door. "Okay, it's been two weeks. I told you, no longer than two weeks. Now you have to go, bud." The cat's mournful green eyes met Hiccup's, and he sighed. "Just my luck. Already the company screw-up and now I'm hiding contraband. Great. The gods must love me." The cat's only response to Hiccup's existential monologue was a slow, pointed, blink.

"I guess you need a name now," Hiccup said, scooping up some of the uneaten tuna from the can with a tortilla chip. The cat blinked again. "What about… Lucky?" The cat managed to roll its eyes. "Okay, yeah, cliché. Greenie?" Hiccup grimaced, as the cat's forest eyes rolled again. "Blackie?" The cat meowed loudly. "Yeah, I didn't think about that one. Oof. Let's forget about that." The cat yawned. showing some missing teeth. "Look at you, you redneck. Missing teeth. Guess it's hard out there for a stray." The cat seemed to agree. "Yeah. It's hard in here too, so I hope you weren't expecting much. Let's go with Toothless." The cat meowed again, obviously perturbed by the jibe. "Yeah. I like Toothless." The cat, now christened Toothless, settled down to take a nap, as Hiccup ate one last tortilla chip, and then did the same.

"Sleep well, bud."

_Meow. _

(Wow, it's been forever! But I'm snowed in for days, so I thought I'd write a little. Would you eat tuna your cat went at first? If so, review! If not, still review! I'm also looking around for a beta, so if anyone's interested shoot me a PM.)


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